


dive

by cryptidlibrarian



Series: Wayhaven Week 2020 [2]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Chronic Pain, Disabled Character, Gen, M romance but it's only mentioned Once, Prompt Fic, wayhaven week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25274305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidlibrarian/pseuds/cryptidlibrarian
Summary: The carnival ends, and Valentine Munroe goes swimming.Written for Wayhaven Week, for the Day 3 prompt "Abyss".
Series: Wayhaven Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829665
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	dive

Valentine always liked to swim. Growing up on a bay, not far from the sea, certainly helped- and even when the waters grew too cold for most she’d still venture out to the beach to shiver and run and throw herself into the surf. In the middle of winter, she’d make do with the school pool and its heated chlorine. She didn’t like the chlorine. She joined the swim team regardless, and kept it up until graduation.

She hadn’t had time to go swimming for a while. Even as it had grown warmer, in the wake of Murphy and Unit Bravo, she’d been recovering. Elidor and the rest of the medical team had done what they could for the scars at her neck, but that still left her with the pain. Whatever Murphy had done to her had burned, her blood like acid, but the worst part was that that burn never quite  _ left _ . It had been a while before she could focus enough on just walking, and then to be able to move fluidly enough that she wouldn’t have to listen to the suggestions that maybe work wouldn’t be a possibility.

The idea of swimming hadn’t even crossed her mind, until the morning after her last visit to the carnival. The wind had changed, and it brought overland a smell of salt, fresher than the brackish water of the lake. She’d caught it before she’d even really awoken, dreams slipping into the deeps before she roused herself.

...she had the day off, anyway. The decision was made by the time she finished her breakfast.

As her little silver beater pulls out onto the coastal road, Valentine cranks the window down, breathing deep. It eases a knot in her chest so ingrained it’s dizzying to be free of it- and she cranks her music up, letting loose for once to properly belt out the lyrics. She’d been quieter when she was annoying Mason because she’d doubted he’d have put up with her karaoke if she’d been bellowing along to Joan Jett. But here, there’s just her and the road and the sea air growing crisper and saltier, and she can forget the worries and anxieties of the month past for just a little while.

They aren’t entirely forgotten, of course. When she goes through her bag in the back seat, car to be left in the parking lot above the beach, it still has her taser tucked in it. She’s not about to let any still-hopeful trappers get the jump on her. But she’s also not going to be leaving it lying out on the beach where nosy parkers could find it, so everything, including her shoes, is left in the car, bag tucked under the seat, and she steps carefully on bare feet across the gravel of the car park. Funnily enough, the constant thrum like hot wire through her ankles means she’s not so bothered by the stab of gravel. It’s a strange sort of background sensation- like tinnitus. Always there, only sometimes obscured.

When she’s in the water, though, it’s not so bad. She wades into the chill surf without a flinch or shiver and lets out a deep breath when she’s finally deep enough that she can make a shallow dive forwards. She fills her lungs and plunges forwards.

Underwater she’s comfortable. The world presses against her, making her form concrete and cool and the burn eases with the cold. She kicks, pushing herself further out, until a different burn appears, her lungs straining for air, and she’s forced to surface. She pants, breathes deep, and dives again.

Further and further. Deeper and deeper. It’s stupid, especially when she’s here alone, on an empty beach with no-one in sight to help if she’s caught in a rip. Valentine Munroe is a cautious person and yet she plunges as deep as she can, her body straining against the motion, trying to buoy up to the surface where the air in her lungs wants to stay but she has to be deep enough that when she opens her eyes to the salt sting she can see the dark.

It’s not perfect. It never will be. Everything is a haze, just light and the shadows nowhere near as deep as she wants them to be. But it’s the furthest she can take herself with lungs and limbs alone. Down there she’s just a fleck in the swell. The world buffets her, could tear her apart, but at least her bones don’t feel as though they’ve been run through with metal that stings and bites and wears her down to bruises.

Perhaps there are mermaids. Valentine thinks about this as she breaks the surface again and lets herself float, the sun eeking a more comforting warmth back into her chilled limbs wherever they drift close enough to the surface. Maybe there’s something down there, which could be watching her- could be considering whether to snag a lone swimmer and drag a meal down deep.

She licks her lips, tasting salt, and closes her eyes.

She drifts.


End file.
